


Firelight and happiness

by GreyWardenCousland



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, F/M, Fluff, good feels, happiness, nothing bad ever, soft and happy, the title says it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 00:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16943568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWardenCousland/pseuds/GreyWardenCousland
Summary: An amazing, lovely person made an awesome drawing of my Elissa Cousland and and I was so overflowing with happiness and fluff that I had to draw this... thank you so very much, if you're happy with me tagging your art I'll update this later. Thank you!





	Firelight and happiness

She grinned, as she always did when laying eyes on her husband. It was nearly impossible not to, especially when he was oblivious to her as he was now, sitting on the high backed chair in their office, managing to look every bit the King even while scowling petulantly at having to deal with yet more rubbish thrown his way. Broad shouldered, very tall and full of lean muscles, the firelight glittering off of the thin band of gold on his dirty blond hair, he looked every bit the warrior even as he hunched in the chair and rubbed at his face in annoyance.

It was said that Ferelden hadn't had a royal couple be so besotted with each other in generations, and, for once, Elissa agreed with the majority.

' _Silly man,_ ' she thought to herself, well hidden in the shadows, taking joy in watching him,  ' _how could you ever doubt yourself?_ ' Elissa remembered the young boy she met that day at Ostagar fondly, not at all cringing at he did at every little mistake he had made. Instead, she saw them as lessons he had gone through to become the man he was today, steps on a road they had walked together to grow as people. She felt her heart swell with pride as she watched him deal with Arl Eamon's latest so-called emergency, although a shadow crossed her face. It was almost imperceptible to anyone who did not know her well; a vague tightness, like a cat watching its pray before it pounced.

Alistair saw the Arl as a father-figure still, and cared for the old man. It wasn't entirely beyond understanding that he would feel some level of gratitude towards the man who raised him, if that word was even a good enough fit for what the old bastard had done. This affection alone was what saved the Arl from her subtle - and at times lethal - machinations, and a healthy dose of vengeance. He had been kind enough to her due to her noble birthright, if condescending in the manner most old men tended to employ, seeing only the pretty face of a fair maiden. Her mother, Maker rest her, had taught her well; Elissa knew being underestimated was an advantage, not something to resist. She was raised by the Seawolf herself, after all, and not many men dared cross her mother and survived with their dignity intact. But after the Blight was stopped, she had learned of the Arl's treatment of her husband, the pettiness and cruelty, and it had set fire to her blood. Her husband's jokes at the beginning at being raised by dogs, the quips about sleeping in the stables, the sadness in his haunted eyes, his distrust at being loved at all.

 _Yes, the old man's time will come_ , she pondered, feeling the daggers hidden within her draping sleeves more for comfort than to check they were still in place; the dainty material, embroidered with the roses she so loved after the first gift he ever gave her and which had become her favoured symbol, providing an apt metaphor in their role as concealment for her many weapons. Not many expected them to contain half of what they did. So she stood still and watched and pondered. She knew two others even more skilled than her who would be glad to assist, should she wish for company. Zevran was the more likely candidate, but Leliana had a cruel streak in her that Elissa had always admired.

But that time was not yet upon them.

'Well if the Bann wishes for an audience, he can come to me himself.' His tone was firm as he stood up and guided his uncle out the door, clearly having had enough of his rubbish for an eve. The old man sputtered through Alistair's reassurances that he would deal with the concerns at a later date, his face obscured by the thick wooden door Alistair shut in his face and proceeded to thunk his forehead against.

She could not help the laughter bubbling in her throat, making him jump and turn around, ready to fight before his whole face lit up.

'I believe, dearest, that your uncle was trying to take advantage of your familial relations. Little did he know your true family was the pack of giant Anderfel dogs who raised you, is that not so?'

'Maker's breath, Ella, you need to stop doing that.' He scowled at her and put his arms on his hips, the very image of an irate spouse.

Elissa grinned unashamedly and made her way over to him, throwing her arms around his neck and proceeding to slowly kiss the frown from his face. His pretense continued, although spoiled a tad when he had to lean down to allow her shorter self to reach his face during her quest to kiss every inch of it. With a sigh, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his nose in the crook of her neck, nuzzling the base of her long braid. He had always said she smelled like home and her heart broke and then healed a little each time he did.

'It's not fair that you get to skulk off and leave me to deal with him, you know,' he mumbled into her hair.

'Ah, you see,' she muttered back distractedly, 'it's not technically skulking off if I'm actually working. I believe you used that same excuse not two days ago when I was entertaining the Vaels. Besides, dearest, you insist on keeping him around.'

She felt his grin rather than saw it and the rest of the argument was forgotten when he lifted her up and spun her around, eliciting delighted laughter from his Queen. They fell more than sat onto the cushioned sofa in front of the fire, a tangle of limbs on top of her poor gown, laughing like two children at the sheer joy of being in each other's arms. Elissa kicked at her gown until it allowed her to sit sideways on his lap, leaning her forehead against his as she ran her fingers through his hair. How could a warrior such as him, king or no king, have the softest hair she had ever felt?

He grabbed her hand and pulled it down when she purposefully tickled a spot behind his ear, his face making it clear he was caught between wanting to scowl and grin. So, as any good wife, she decided to help him along and kiss his nose.

He broke down into a fit of laughter she was all too happy to join in.

This was home. 


End file.
